Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (23 page)

Lifting a brow, he shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sometimes the hard way is the only way to learn.”

“Maybe. Sucks, but I guess we all learn in our own way.” She put the book of Keats back and started for the door. Sliding past him, she went to go down the hall and then paused. Over her shoulder, she said, “I like Trey. A lot. Whatever you find, I hope you keep that in mind.”

Travis closed his eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Oh, yeah. She knew something.

She’d pegged him for a cop, he’d bet that in a heartbeat. He wasn’t. But she’d come a hell of a lot closer than anybody else ever had.

*   *   *

Her gut churned as she settled on the couch next to Trey.

She needed to round up Neeci and head home, but for some reason, she needed this.

No.

Not some reason.

Every reason.

All the reasons.

She’d seen it.

She was right. That man wasn’t an accountant any more than she was. Or maybe he
had
been one . . . or something. Undercover, maybe? She didn’t know. She was curious why he had his family thinking that was what he did. Not that it was any of her business.

The one thing that was her business was what would happen when Travis found out.

And he was going to look.

That was what his kind did. They nosed around, dug around, looked for answers.

Would he leave her alone?

Or would he tell Trey?

Maybe she should just tell him . . .

Wasn’t that one hell of a thing to drop into a conversation.
So, baby . . . let me tell you this trouble I got into. My cousin and me, actually. You know, Neeci’s mama? You’re just going
to love this.
Shame and misery twisted in her and she had to fight not to squirm.

A series of giggles had her looking toward the TV and she smiled at the screen as she caught sight of one seriously beautiful man—being cornered by a couple of devious kids.

It was Sebastian Barnes, playing the role of a hardened military man who came home to find his brother’s kids orphaned and himself left with the job of raising them.

“He looks comfortable in that role,” she murmured.

“Yeah. He took it after he spent a couple weeks here with me and Clayton. Said he had more fun with kids than he’d thought he could. Of course, one of those kids almost made him go and get himself snipped,” Trey said, grinning. He toyed with her fingers as he spoke and the sight of that sent a pang through her heart.

“Yeah? A terror?”

“Beyond. According to Seb, the kid missed his cues, stepped on his lines all the time, and when they were doing those wrestling scenes you saw earlier? He actually kicked Seb in the . . .” He stopped and ran his tongue across his teeth. “Well. His shots were on target the first few times. Then Seb wisened up and started wearing a cup—the kid got mad when he hurt his foot and complained to his mother, who
then
complained to the director.”

She almost asked if he was joking, but judging by the smirk on his face, she knew he wasn’t. “And what did the director say?”

“He suggested the kid remember he wasn’t actually supposed to kick him. She wasn’t pleased, I’m told.”

“Wow.” Eying the screen now, she tried to figure out which one it was. He’d mentioned the wrestling, but it had been two kids on the lone adult. The ruddy cheeked, angelic looking boy who looked to be six or seven didn’t seem like a good fit. The only other option was the teenager. “Was it that older kid? Seems like he’d know better.”

“He did.” Trey lifted a brow as he turned to look at her. “It was the little kid. Apparently under all those golden curls, he’s got a set of horns. And his mom is one of the worst stage moms ever.”

“Stage mom?” She eyed him curiously.

Trey laughed. “Sorry. You’ve got normal moms—those who are just that . . . normal. Like our mom was. Even though Zach practically lived on set, and then later, Seb, and all of us were around it because of them, she made sure we had a normal life, or as normal as possible. Then you’ve got stage moms—the only thing that matters is the next part. Their child is the most important person on the set—even if it’s just a bit part and you’ve got Sean Connery acting next to them, that kid is
everything
and if makeup doesn’t kiss his ass, the world ends. We saw some crazy shit. Seb said he overheard this mom going after wardrobe because the kid ripped his jeans and they didn’t strip him onset to replace them.”

“That’s awful. I kinda feel bad for your brother,” she murmured, eying the angelic looking boy with new eyes.

“I don’t,” Trey said with relish.

“Why not?” she demanded, turning to look at him.

“Because Sebastian deserves it.”

“Does he ever,” Travis said as he came into the room.

She didn’t let herself stiffen as she glanced at him.

He settled in an armchair on the other side of the room. “Mom had to pop that kid’s bubble on a regular basis. Some people grow into their arrogance. Sebastian was born with it. And he was probably ten times worse than that kid and Mom was constantly reeling him in.”

“Yep.” Trey chuckled and the sound was more than a little diabolical. “Now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. I bet it tastes really bad.”

“You are awful.” Shaking her head, she settled a little more comfortably against him and tried not to think about the fact that the other, quieter twin was sitting just a few feet away. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but she was all too aware of his gaze.

*   *   *

The side of the car was still warm from the heat of the day, although it was rapidly cooling down.

Not that she was cold.

Caught between the car and Trey’s body, she could barely think.

One hand tangled in the back of her shirt, the other spread
on her neck while he used teeth and tongue to slowly destroy her sanity.

Moaning into his kiss, she clutched at his shoulders as the strength drained out of her. A dark, rough growl came out of him as she sagged back against the car and he followed, his weight pressing more firmly against her as he started to move, oh so slowly.

It was . . . devastating.

Her sex clenched and she could feel herself growing hotter, wetter in readiness. His cock was a heavy, thick brand and she rubbed herself against him. Half mad with the need, she found herself reaching for him, ready to tug his jeans open and shove her hand inside.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, catching her wrist and drawing her hand back.

Belatedly, she remembered. Where they were. What she was doing.

Neeci was in the car, asleep.

In the house a few yards away, Clayton was in the same condition.

And Travis—

That was a bucket of cold water in her face. Curling her fingers into her hand, she tugged free and turned her head.

Staring out at the street, she breathed slowly. After a minute passed, she said, “You make me lose my mind, Barnes.”

“Same goes.” He cupped her cheek, guided her face back until they were looking at each other yet again. “What’s wrong? Where did you go?”

“I didn’t go anywhere.” She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him close, giving him a wicked smile as she arched against him. “Why would I want to do that anyway?”

He rubbed his finger across her lower lip. “You’ve been disappearing half the day.”

“No, I . . .” Ressa stopped, heaved out a sigh. “It’s nothing, Trey. It’s just . . . that complication stuff.”

Observant eyes studied her. “You sure that’s it? Nothing I said? Did?”

“No.” She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around
his neck. In case that wasn’t enough, she pressed her lips to his, said it again. “No.”

She eased away, but he didn’t let her go far. “Then what is it?”

She laid her cheek against his. “It’s just . . .” She blew out a breath. “Trey, I just have stuff in my head. It’s not you, I promise. It’s just . . . all that complication stuff we keep talking about. We should probably have that talk soon.”

Tension held him tight as he turned his face into her hair. A moment or two passed before he spoke again. “Yeah, maybe so. Because this sure as hell isn’t going to get any less intense on my end.”

Something that might have been fear, might have been delight, twined through her.

“So. We talk soon.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“But I do. I need to get her to bed. We’re meeting Mama in the morning for breakfast. Besides, I don’t think you and I need to talk about spending the night with each other yet. At least not when there are kids around, anyway.”

She kept telling herself that as she drove away a few minutes later.

It was even the truth.

It didn’t do jack to untangle the knot inside.

And nothing could help with the bigger, uglier knot of fear that wedged itself deep into her gut.

“Stop worrying,” she told herself.

It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Wasn’t like she could change the outcome of anything.

Whatever you find, I hope you keep that in mind
.

Those words had managed to do two things—stir his curiosity and make him check her out. Travis hadn’t really planned to do much of
anything
, to be honest. He didn’t make a habit of digging around in the backgrounds of the people his brothers were dating.

Well, not right off the bat.

If somebody struck him as off? Well, then, that changed things.

Ressa, if it hadn’t been for the interlude in the library, he wouldn’t have gone nosing around, at least not right away. Even though she had managed to set his instincts off.

He liked her. She was blunt and funny and Clayton clearly adored her. She treated the kids—both the little girl and Clayton—well, and to him that mattered a hell of a lot.

So, she clearly didn’t trust law enforcement types. She wasn’t the only one, and plenty had a reason not to.

And if she hadn’t said anything in the library, he would have just made himself let it go. Now, though . . .

It had been four days since she’d been over with that doll of a little girl. Each day, he’d had to force himself not to go
digging anything up. He didn’t have a reason to. She wasn’t doing anything, right? Just dating his brother.

His rich brother.

His single brother.

His widowed brother who really didn’t have that much experience with women.

That was the nagging little voice of evil, that red devil that rode his shoulder.

The other voice, well, he couldn’t call him an angel, but maybe it was the voice of common sense, he spoke up and reminded him,
You like her. Trey’s not an idiot. He’s got decent instincts, even if maybe he has been out of the game awhile—or never even
in
the game to begin with. Just let it go.

Yet Ressa had all but told him there was something in her past that he wouldn’t like. That meant Trey wouldn’t like it. And she hadn’t told Trey, either.

Why was she keeping secrets?

It didn’t take much time at all to figure out just what she’d been warning him about.

By the time he was done checking everything out, his head was pounding and he didn’t know if he wanted to warn Trey . . . or just find Ressa and tell her to get it over with.

*   *   *

“About damn time you talk to me. What did it take, Mama fussing at you?”

Ressa closed her eyes at Kiara’s words, trying to ignore the stab of guilt. She didn’t need to feel guilty. Yes, it had taken Mama Ang nudging her, but she’d called, right?

“I’m calling, right, Kiara?” she asked softly. “How are you doing?”

There was a faint pause, and then finally, she said, “I wanna see Neeci.”

A headache settled at the base of Ressa’s head. “K, we’ve talked about this. You saw her not that long ago. You can see her at Thanksgiving. But—”

“Damn it, Ress! She’s my baby. I want to see her!” Kiara’s voice skipped, hitched. That heavy, harsh, needling whine underscored those words.

Ressa closed her eyes to the pain and focused on what
mattered—Neeci. She used to allow it, whenever Neeci wanted it, whenever Kiara wanted it. And Neeci had nightmares. Used to wet the bed all the time, cry all the time. The counselor had suggested maybe they try something different.

It had broken her heart, but in the end, Ressa knew it was the right thing.

Neeci was a child and she needed more stability than Kiara could—or would—ever be able to provide. She needed to be safe and secure, and she needed something that Kiara just couldn’t offer.

“We’ve talked about this. If you want to write her a letter, you’re more than welcome to. You’re welcome to do a phone call, if you remember the rules. But you’re not going to put her through this.”

“I’m not putting her through
anything
,” Kiara half shouted. “She’s my little girl and you are
not
her mother.”

“No.” Ressa steadied herself. “I’m her guardian. You signed away parental rights and there’s nothing you can do or say to change that, Kiara.”

There was a faint pause and then finally, Kiara said, “Yeah. You’re her fucking guardian and I’m the one who’s in here. And whose fucking fault is that? But it may not stay that way. Not forever.”

Guilt twisted inside. “Kiara . . .”

“Don’t!” Kiara shouted.

In the background, voices raised.

“What does that mean?” Blood started to roar in her ears.

A harsh, bitter laugh drifted through the phone. “We’ll talk next time you’re out here, cuz. I’m not telling you on the phone. But you and Mama Ang need to come out here, and soon. Since you don’t have anybody to leave my baby with, you’ll have to bring her.”

“I don’t think so.” Ressa gripped the phone tighter.

“Well, you don’t have much choice,” Kiara said, her voice sly. “There are things I have to tell you and I need to tell you both. So what else are you going to do?”

“I’ll make arrangements.” Ressa set her jaw, her mind automatically flashing to Trey. “I already have somebody in mind. Kiara, what’s going on?”

“You’ll do anything to keep my girl away from me,” Kiara
said. Sullen temper underscored her words. “When you going to be here?”

Sighing, Ressa skimmed a hand back over her damp hair. She still needed to deal with her hair, needed to call Mama Ang now, needed a drink. “Look, I’ll talk to Mama Ang. See what I can work out. I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“Kiara . . . I love you.”

Kiara said nothing, for the longest time. And then she murmured, “I know.”

The line went dead a moment later.

*   *   *

For the first time in . . . ages, really, a story had sucked him under.

It helped, he supposed, that Travis was there. He volunteered to pick up Clayton and Trey just grunted, only vaguely aware. He surfaced again when his alarm went off, signaling that it was time for him to leave, but since Travis was already gone, he only paused long enough to fuel himself with coffee and a hastily slapped together sandwich, and then he lost himself back in the story.

It had been nearly eight before he found himself winding down and then he was famished, eyes bleary, and guilt had him seeking out his son.

Clayton was snuggled up against Travis while they watched
Captain America
. Trey paused briefly to shake his head—the two of them had already watched every single movie in the
Avengers
franchise—and some of them twice—and Travis hadn’t been there that long.

But that didn’t keep him from attacking the fridge—he rolled his eyes at the leftover pizza. Then he ate a slice cold and reheated what was left before joining them in the living room.

While the captain was grieving over Bucky, Trey looked over at his twin. Trying to keep his voice casual, he asked, “Did anybody call or anything while I was off in another world?”

“Nope.” Travis lifted a bottle of beer to his lips, drank deep, then shot him a look. “Were you expecting a call?”

Yes.
He shrugged. “Just wondering.”

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, eyed the lack of messages and then blew out a breath.

“You’re watching the movie with us, right, Dad?” Clayton asked, his voice soft, gaze still locked on the screen.

“Yeah, Clay. I’m watching.” He did send her a text, though.

Hey . . . how you doing?

There was no answer, though. Even when he was tucking Clayton into bed, even when he returned to his office and tried to catch up on some of the non-writing work he’d ignored all day.

He’d only been at it twenty minutes when Travis joined him, his feet silent. Travis had always been quiet, but Trey had always known when he was there, too.

“You and Ressa going out this weekend?”

Trey looked up at his brother, studying him. He’d been in town a little over a week now and he was looking less gaunt by the day.

Less gaunt, less tired . . . but his eyes were still grim. He looked older, too.

Older, and harder.

Trey couldn’t think of a better way to put it. Travis had been born three minutes before Trey, but there were times when it looked like a decade separated them.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, and wished he
did
know. They’d had coffee twice this week. He’d had sex with her—about a hundred times—but it was all in his head, or in dreams, and if he didn’t remedy that soon, he thought his balls might bust.

Of course, sometimes, he had second thoughts, and third, and fourth. Occasionally those thoughts were followed by a panic attack because he worried about just what he’d do—what Ressa would think—if things got all hot and sweaty between them and then he had another freak-out session in the middle of a make-out session.

More than once, he’d had to mentally kick his own ass, because he’d decided he was moving past this. Moving on with his life—because he actually wanted to
have
a life.

They were still dancing around that
talk
 . . . despite the fact that they talked on the phone every night. Sometimes it was just for a few minutes. But then there had been a couple of
nights when they walked for a good two hours after they put their respective kids down.

He didn’t know if he’d see her that weekend and the thought that he might not made his mood take a turn for the lousy.

“Haven’t made any plans?” Travis settled in the beat-up chair next to him, elbows braced on his knees.

“What is this, twenty questions?” Eying his inbox with acute dislike, he said a silent prayer that his assistant Meg would be back to work next week—she’d been on vacation while he was at the convention plus the following week and right before she was supposed to come back, her mother had passed away.

He knew she needed the time away. Shit, if his mother had died, he had a feeling he’d crumple like a baby and want to hide for about a year. He got it, really.

But at the same time, he was lost without Meg being here.

Deciding the search-and-destroy method would be best, Trey did a search for the stuff he knew he wouldn’t mess with—all the promotional stuff that was sent his way—he tagged and filed all of that into a folder for Meg to deal with when she was back and up to it. Then he did another search for the people he knew he had to answer sooner rather than later, although those people tended to call. There was a mess of stuff from his agent and his editor, including a new cover.

“You never did answer me.”

“What?” Trey only barely registered Travis’s voice as he studied the cover. He didn’t know what to think about it. It was another L. Forrester book, about one of the secondary characters he’d had in the last one. The heroine had a friend on the quiet, shy, almost gawkish side . . . and somebody who’d worked with the hero in the book had fallen for her.

This one was called
Seducing the Scholar
and instead of a sexy girl with a tie, it had a guy. Trey didn’t care what it said about him. He much preferred the pretty girl over the bare-chested pretty boy they’d slapped on this one. He’d told them he wanted something in the same vein . . . and this was definitely that. But he much preferred the beautiful woman.

“Hell, Trey, are you even on . . . what is this . . .”

He went to slap his laptop shut but Travis stopped him, moving entirely too fast as he jerked the laptop out of his reach
and all but sprinted around the desk until he had it between them.

“Give me that damn laptop,” Trey growled, rising and bracing his hands on the surface of the desk.

“‘
Seducing the Scholar’ . . .”
Travis drew it out, eyes narrowed. He looked up and the screen was reflected in miniature in his gaze. “So. Who is L. Forrester?”

“You jackass, give me the computer.”

“Answer the question.” Travis just backed up, an unholy light gleaming in his eyes. “You devious little bastard. It’s
you,
isn’t it?”

If he could have managed not to blush, he would have bluffed. He knew how to bluff, even his twin. At least he
thought
he could have bluffed.

But it was a waste of time to even try because that telltale hot flush he could feel spreading up his neck, then his cheeks, was a dead giveaway. “Give me my damn computer, you moron.”

“Has Mom read these?” Travis sidestepped another grab for the computer, moving easier than he had since he’d arrived. He backed up farther out of reached as he grinned at his brother. “Does she know you went and picked up a pen name?”

“No, you fuckwit.”

“Fuckwit.” Travis chuckled as he cocked his head, studying the cover from one side, then the other. “So is this one of the billionaire books? You giving up the
cry me a river
books?”

“No.” He gauged the distance, the desk, and then hurtled over it. One hand slipped on a piece of paper but he made it. Travis was already dodging out of reach. “You piece of shit—”

“You kiss that pretty lady of yours with that mouth?” Travis snapped the laptop shut and turned it over. “So what is this? What’s the L. Forrester stuff?”

Steaming, tapping the laptop against his leg, Trey debated beating his brother senseless or just leaving the room. “You are just as annoying now as you were when we were kids,” he finally said.